


And When the Monsters Come, I'll Hold You Dear

by monopolizeme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fear, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monopolizeme/pseuds/monopolizeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Erica was little her brother told her that monsters lived beneath the bed, just waiting to gobble her up the moment the light was turned off. He told her they had thick coats of fur and fangs that dripped of blood; he told her they howled like wolves and dined on stupid fearful children. So Erica told herself not to be afraid but still trembled beneath the blankets when her father turned off the lights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And When the Monsters Come, I'll Hold You Dear

Erica is afraid. In truth, she’s afraid of a lot of things.

When she was little her brother told her that monsters lived beneath the bed, just waiting to gobble her up the moment the light was turned off. He told her they had thick coats of fur and fangs that dripped of blood; he told her they howled like wolves and dined on stupid fearful children. So Erica told herself not to be afraid but still trembled beneath the blankets when her father turned off the lights. She believed the blankets kept her safe but her brother had laughed and called her stupid.

When Erica turned eleven the seizures started. And then Erica was scared all the time. She trembled when she sat on the bus and when she ate her lunch alone in the cafeteria. She was scared when she sat in class and pulled on her gym shoes and put her head beneath the water during swim practice. She feared the seizures would come, because they always came, and so Erica was always afraid.

She was scared of the pills they made her take, warning of awful things and swallowing them caused her greater anxiety than the seizures themselves. So she stopped. And the seizures came. And Erica stayed afraid.

She was afraid of the bite, a little, although not as much as her fear of monsters beneath the bed and choking on her own tongue in gym class.

She is afraid even now, as a werewolf. She’s scared of wolfbane bullets and Hunters; she’s afraid that Boyd will get fed up with her and Isaac and will leave; she’s afraid that Isaac will think Scott a better werewolf than Derek and she’s scared that Derek will think her a useless Beta to the pack. She’s scared of Scott too, a little. Not so much of  _him_ , but of his love for Allison. She’s afraid that one day Allison will decide that werewolves truly are evil, will join the family business, and that Scott out of his blind adoration for Allison will follow her and her family’s ways and kill off Erica and her pack.

Erica is stronger than the weak terrified girl who convulsed in the locker rooms and the supermarkets and at the bus stop but she is still six-years-old inside her head and is afraid of the monsters lurking outside of the blanket covering her eyes.

But she is not afraid of Derek Hale.

Derek is formed of too-hard edges sharp like glass. His eyes rarely regard any of the pack with warmth and his voice is strict and cold when he barks out orders. But Erica gravitates to him in ways that underlie more than a Beta to an Alpha, although she knows that that is part of it. Derek seizes her arm too tightly during training sessions and throws her to the ground as if she is incapable of feeling the pain; even though she can heal it still hurts unbearably when she feels the bone in her left arm snap against the train rails and he never seems to be empathetic to the way she screams when Boyd crushes his knee between her shoulder blades.

But Derek is also a pulsing throb of pain and hurt, anguish tucked in the lines of his broad palms and in the firm edges of his mouth, the subtle flicker of his eyelashes. Derek breaks and bleeds and doesn’t complain and breaks and bleeds some more, for his Betas, for her.

And no one has ever broken or bled for Erica.

Derek closes off the world around him, just like Erica shut herself off from the world around her. Derek scowls and chases off those who try and broach his unyielding walls made of glass. But Erica can see through them and she sees a shattered reflection of herself, someone comprised of too many jagged and confused pieces that do not fit together right anymore.

Derek rarely shows compassion, but his voice trembles just slightly when he grips at her arm as she slumps loosely against Stiles’ chest, the toxins pumping through her veins. Her lungs are too swollen in her chest and she can smell Stiles’ fear, sharp and sour against her mouth and Derek squeezes her arm and digs his nails into her skin and she screams because it hurts.

But Derek whispers, too quietly for Stiles to hear, “Stay with me, Erica.” and Erica fights to live because Derek wants her to.

Erica is afraid of the old man who swallows too many pills and sits behind the desk in the Principal’s office. She is afraid of the woman with the too short red hair who substitutes in their English class and Erica sometimes feels like she is still the girl who convulses on the classroom floor and not the werewolf who could snap the neck of anyone who dared to mock her once more.

She’s afraid of the kanima and she is afraid that she will never be good enough to protect her Alpha and her Beta brothers.

But Derek puts a hand on her shoulder when she gathers her books together for school, Isaac and Boyd cramming themselves into the back seat of the Camero.

“You’re stronger now,” he tells her, looking into her face. His voice is steady assurance and it chases away the maelstrom of worry that builds beneath her ribs. And Derek always sounds so  _sure_. “I will feel it, if anything happens to you. We’re connected now. And I will know if you are in danger and I will be there. You don’t have to worry anymore, Erica.”

She still wakes up sometimes from night terrors. She wakes up crying, images of Derek heaving against the pool railing, wet and shuddering because he almost  _drowned_  and would have if Stiles had not been there to save him. She had been useless,  _again_ , weak and helpless to defend her Alpha.

But Derek had simply touched her shoulder reassuringly that night when they returned to his Camero. His eyes were too open, almost on the edge of something vulnerable, and he had looked young and beautiful and Erica had wanted to kiss him.

“I’m sorry,” she said instead.

Derek shook his head, a subtle faint movement and a droplet of water had fallen from his wet spiky hair and landed on her cheek.

“Tomorrow,” he had said. “We’ll do better tomorrow.”

Erica is scared of a lot of things. 

But not of  Derek Hale. 

Because Derek does not fit right in his own skin and neither does Erica. But she thinks that maybe, if they stand by each other's side and shift their bones beneath their skin, the jagged misplaced edges of their bodies might slide together and lock just right. 

And maybe all of that fear will crumble away and leave them whole and right again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this picture](http://monopolizeme.tumblr.com/post/46861085457/).  
> Thank you for reading. :)


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